Thursday, May 26, 2011

Humor by another.

Someone asked me the other day if I would ever bring the humor back to my blog. I laughed, then explained that the lack of humor is from the lack of being told to write my humor. Yes, my life is still full of many laughs and mini comedy shows, however, what use to be viewed as funny, is not.

I know, you're thinking, Not funny? Yes it was. I use to laugh a lot. I know, I know. The difference now is that when I sit down to write I ask myself, does this glorify God? And my old way of being and writing did not; hence the lack of what-use-to-be.

I am still funny, not to worry. I'm simply finding the niche of how to write humor with God in mind.

Really quick before moving on, it's been brought to my attention by several people that because of my blog changing, it is thought that this whole Jesus thing is new for me.


My journey with God started a LONG time ago. However, for many-many-many years I continued to live a life not centered in Christ; only giving our relationship the attention it needed, when I needed it. It wasn't until the rug was swept-out from underneath my feet did I hear, Are you ready now? "Are you ready now?" being God, letting me know that He had been waiting through it all; waiting for the day I would truly hear His knock and open the door.

Any thriving relationship takes two, all-in, all the time. God had never left me, I had simply chosen to walk 10 steps in-front of Him, rather side-by-side.

SO, me and the Big Man go way back. And if you ever have questions about a relationship with God, or how I came to be where I am today, please don't hesitate to ask.

Now going back to humor.

I spent the last weekend at my parents home while the big guy took a mans trip riding dirt bikes. Yes, he came back in one piece...Praise Jesus! While I was there my mom sent me a link to a humorous blog post. And it wasn't until I read it that the light bulb went on...Hey! It is possible to write about Jesus and be funny! But the real kicker for me was that it was written by a man!

Why does that fact that he is a man matter?

Because it is ALWAYS a blessing to encounter a man who is submerged in a relationship with God. I don't mean the type of man who goes to work, is one person there, comes home, is another person there, checks the box on Sunday when it comes time for church, and is a different person there. No, no, no. I'm talking about a bible thumpin, selfless giver, Born-Again, Jesus freak. If you don't know what I'm talking about, call my dad.

So here is the link to your humor for today, and if you don't want to click over then I have posted it below.

On The Eve Of The End Of The World

I sobbed and sniffed in my bunk. Mom left Johnny Carson’s opening monologue to sit on the edge of my bed, pat my chest and hear my fears. Our pastor had preached yet another sermon about the rapture – that fabled day when he said Jesus would return and take every living Christian to heaven. In the process, he said, unmanned cars would careen into homes and pedestrians, planes would collide with suburbs and skyscrapers.

I was six and scared that I hadn’t repeated that sinner’s prayer after the pastor exactly right. That I’d be left behind fighting for my life in an apocalyptic America run by the anti-Christ and his minions. Without mom and dad.

A few years later I slept in on a Saturday morning. When I woke to an empty house I called for my parents, my sister. No answer. On the front sidewalk I did the same. Then from the back porch. Not knowing they were next door talking to neighbors I decided to call my grandmother – my mom’s mom – four hours away – the woman who knew every word to every hymn and got up at 4:30 each morning to read her bible. If she answered the phone, I figured, Jesus either didn’t come snatch his people in the night after all or he had the oddest standards. Taking my sister to heaven and not my grandmother?

Then Jesus was supposed to take us during art class my freshman year. I put down my pencil, squinted out at the clouds through large plate glass windows, counted all I’d miss. OK, honestly, I just mostly mourned that I’d not seen a girl naked yet. This is the value system of a fifteen year-old boy.

Harold Camping has done the math and says Jesus is coming back tomorrow. He’s probably wrong. But if he’s not I have no fear of going or longing to stay.

I’ve seen a girl naked. At least three times.

And I trust.

I trust that the death and resurrection of Jesus appeased a God who hates sin and turned away his wrath. I trust that He keeps His promises – that He will never leave me in this life or the next. I trust that life beside Him anywhere is better than life at a distance down here. I trust that He knows history because He is its Author. And I trust He’ll forgive Harold Camping for getting it wrong tomorrow and forgive me for not always wishing the Harolds of this world were right.

I trust now.

But my son’s going to be really ticked if he misses his last flag football game of the season. This is the value system of an eight year-old boy.

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